


A Touch of Madness

by Paradise_of_Mary_Jane



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Death, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 03:27:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8430061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paradise_of_Mary_Jane/pseuds/Paradise_of_Mary_Jane
Summary: It’s strange, Sirius thinks. The Order, overrun with fear and suspicion on all sides and threatening to break apart, and no one ever thought to look at the true traitor in their midst. And little Peter Pettigrew, the one the teachers never cared for, the one who never had that much to say, and the one who never had many friends outside the Marauders, managed to end the war by being the one thing no one would have expected him to be.





	

**Author's Note:**

> decided to post this on halloween just because. please enjoy my heartbreak.

There’s a madness that runs through the bloodline of the Blacks. Not just from years of inbreeding, though there’s more than enough of that. It’s something that runs deeper, something that’s been there since the beginning. Some say it’s a curse, and some say it’s a blessing. Either way, it’s madness.

It was the madness that ran through the blood of each Black. The madness that had his mother screaming herself hoarse from the moment he left to the last moment of her life. Sirius feels it creeping at the edges of his mind now, teasing, testing the waters, telling of the inevitable outcome. He feels light-headed, floating away and playing observer to the events happening. He was only distantly aware that he was shaking.

The house is completely destroyed, the roof collapsed on the part where Sirius knows Harry’s room is. He manages to fight the urge to vomit, but only just. His legs move of their own accord, taking him towards the house even as his mind screams at him to run away. This isn’t right—This isn’t possible—

The climb to the stairs may be the longest he’s ever had.

Sirius vomits the moment he reaches the first landing.

He sees an arm that he’d recognize anywhere, connected to a body, connected to—Oh God. Oh God.

Sirius feels his knees buckle and he barely catches himself before his knees hit the steps. He’s heaving and he isn’t quite sure if it’s because of the bile in his throat, or the tears that continually fall from his face. He can barely hold on to the banisters from how hard he’s shaking.

James is—No. Sirius can’t bring himself to think it. He locks it away into a deep, dark crevice of his mind. He won’t deal with it until he absolutely has to. As long as he doesn’t see the—it, he’ll be able to remember how to breathe again.

Sirius doesn’t know how long he sits there, just telling himself in and out, in and out, when a heavy hand lands on his shoulder. He jerks away and nearly falls down the stairs again when a familiar voice manages to steady him. Or at least a part of him.

“Hagrid.” His voice sounded strange; hoarse and croaky, as if he had been screaming. Maybe he had been. He can’t remember anything from the past few minutes other than the sound of his own breathing. Hagrid looks at him and his eyes were soft. Sad, and bright with tears, but soft. Sirius suddenly has the urge to hide from it. He’s holding a small bundle in his arms. Sirius almost thinks that it’s—but no. That’s impossible. No one would have—

The bundle gives a sound that sounds too much like a wail.

“Is that—”

“It is,” Hagrid says, sounding grave. He lowers the bundle and Sirius’ hand automatically reaches out. Harry falls silent though there are still tears streaming down his face. Sirius can make out a lightning shaped scar on the boy’s forehead.

“How—It’s not possible. He should have died.” No one ever survived. No one survived when Voldemort decided to make a personal visit, least of all an infant.

“Dunno,” Hagrid says. “Must’ve been one of Dumbledore’s plans.”

Dumbledore. Of course. The man had a plan for everything, and kept all of them secret. He’s a great man but Sirius isn’t blind, they’re in a war and a young boy somehow managed to thwart Voldemort’s plans. He can only imagine what Dumbledore would have planned for someone like that. If Hagrid was here, he was no doubt taking Harry to Dumbledore. Sirius can’t let that happen.

“Give Harry to me Hagrid. I’m his godfather I’ll take care of him.” That’s what James wa—would have—

James wouldn’t have wanted Sirius to give into the madness, had spent half his life trying to pull Sirius away from it. He had made Sirius godfather and Harry… Harry was still alive. Sirius needed to keep it at bay for him.

A heavy hand landed on his shoulder, as if trying to steady him. Why bother? His world had been overturned and he was falling towards the madness. It was only a question of when now.

“’Fraid I can’t do that Sirius,” Hagrid says. “Dumbledore says he’s to be taken to his relatives.”

“You can’t. I’m—” Sirius needs to take Harry. He needs to take Harry and get him as far away from this place as possible. Hide him away from all of the terrible things that have happened. Away from the war and away from end games and away from danger. Everything else can wait. He just needs to get Harry away because James and Lily are—

They were betrayed. Sirius sees an image of a small man with terrified eyes as Sirius performed the Fidelus Charm the sealed all of their fates. He didn’t find that odd back then; they were all terrified, some were better at hiding it than others. He remembers going to check up on a man he thought was his friend. The flat he’s just seen that was entirely too clean, too desolate, and too empty; the house of a ghost.

Peter. He needs to find Peter.

“I’m sorry Sirius but it’s Dumbledore’s orders.” And he sounds it too, but there’s no point arguing with Dumbledore’s orders, especially if Hagrid’s involved. It doesn’t matter, he can sort it out later. He’ll have time for this later. He can get Harry away from all this madness later. Right now, he has more important things to worry about.

“Take the motorbike then,” Sirius says. “It’s outside. You’ll be much quicker that way.”

Hagrid looks surprised. The entire Order had known how much Sirius had loved that motorbike. Sirius wants to tell him how little it matters to him, compared to everything he’s lost. What’s cutting off a limb when his heart had been ripped from his chest?

“I won’t need it anymore,” Sirius says. The motorbike was once important to him, the culmination of hours upon hours of hard work, now he can hardly care what happens to it. He has more important things to do now, and if he does it properly, he wouldn’t be coming back from it. There’s Harry to think about but Dumbledore’s already arranged everything for him. Let the motorbike be his final gift to his godson.

“If yer sure.” Hagrid still looks hesitant and worried. Sirius can only imagine what he must look and sound like. The thought almost sends a laughter to his lips. Or maybe it does, Sirius isn’t quite sure. The madness in his mind is getting more and more insistent, longing to break free. Sirius wills it back for a few more hours, just until he finds Peter.

“Where will you go?” Hagrid asks.

“I have some things I have to take care of.”

Hagrid’s eyes fill with even more worry past the tears in his eyes. He’s always been fond of the Marauders; this must be hitting him hard. Sirius imagines that the rest of the Wizarding World must be celebrating right now. Hardly anyone would care about a handful of mourners.

“Take care of yourself Sirius,” Hagrid says. He passes Harry to Sirius, maybe for Sirius to say goodbye to his godson, maybe because he knows Sirius will need the strength Harry had always been able to give him. Hagrid had always been kind that way. Sirius edges closer and allows himself to savor the warm feeling he has whenever he has a chance to look at his godson. He imagines it will be the last one he’ll ever get. Harry gurgles happily when he sees him, his red eyes the only sign he’d been crying earlier.

“Good luck little one,” he half-whispers. “I’m sorry you won’t get the life you deserve. The one where you have brothers and sisters, and you’re all in Gryffindor, and your godparents just spoil you rotten. You deserve better and I’m sorry you don’t—and it’s all my fault—”

He can’t bring himself to say the last words out loud. I’m sorry I can’t take you away; I’m sorry I can’t protect you and I’m sorry I couldn’t protect your parents. Sirius is just so sorry about so much. His entire world feels as if it had shattered into a million pieces and there’s nothing he can do to fix it.

Finding Peter won’t bring any of it back, but that hardly matters. A Black will always be a Black, no matter what colors they choose to bear. And a Black always gets their revenge.

A heavy hand lands on his shoulder. Sirius’ eyes feel warm and wet and no, he can’t do this now, he has time for this later but he has more important things to take care of now. Later. Sirius can break later. For now, he has to pull whatever pieces of him are left together. There will be time later.

His body moves out of its own accord, collapsing against Hagrid’s, and sobs wrack through body, making it shake all over. It feels as if he’s about to break apart.

“There, there,” Hagrid says. Sirius doesn’t know how long he’s been standing there but it’s been long enough. He feels exhausted and drained. There seems to be less of a barrier stopping the madness from breaking through. “James wouldn’t want you to fall apart like this.”

Hagrid’s right. Of course he’s right. That would have been the last thing James would have wanted for him. But what does it matter what James would have wanted? He’s de—He’s gone. He won’t be able to want anything ever again.

“Stay safe Hagrid,” he says, pulling away but not before Hagrid pulls him in for another embrace. “And Harry. Take care of him.”

Hagrid walks away and Sirius remains where he is. He listens Hagrid start his motorbike up. Sirius imagines it’s barely able to contain the man’s size. The engines rev and the motorbike takes off and up into the sky. Sirius doesn’t look away until it disappears in the sea of stars.

He takes a moment more to gather himself. In and Out. In and Out. A moment, just a moment’s rest. The calm before the storm.

After… After that. Well, he has a rat to find.

 

 

\--

 

 

It’s a day later when Sirius manages to track Peter down. There’s a lot to be said about the rat, but he never really did learn how to hide.

He finds him on a crowded muggle street, walking fast, and talking to himself. His entire body is shaking.

Sirius doesn’t quite remember what happens after. Maybe he calls out the traitor for what he was, maybe he makes some sort of sound, or maybe Peter’s just on edge because he knows just how many people that would be furious with him for his miscalculation.

Whatever the reason, he turns to Sirius, his eyes wide and frightened.

Sirius moves to get his wand but Peter is faster, the fear and adrenaline no doubt making him jumpy. Making him fast. He takes several steps back and shouts,

“James and Lily! Sirius how could you!”

Everything in Sirius seems to freeze to a halt. Peter takes his momentary lapse to whip out his wand and mutter a curse under his breath, blasting half the street apart.

It wasn’t an easy spell, and definitely not something he could have learned from Hogwarts or The Order. Another betrayal to be added to the weight threatening to break Sirius’ rapidly deteriorating grip on his mind, and it’s the one that does it. Sirius feels the madness that had been teasing at the corners of his mind break free in full force. It’s less than a moment but it’s as if time has slowed down to a trickle. Every single detail commits itself to Sirius’ memory.

He sees the silent apology on Peter’s eyes, along with the terror, not even daring to meet Sirius’, as his mouth forms the words of the spell. What does he have to apologize for? It’s not as if Sirius will ever forgive him.

It’s strange, Sirius thinks. The Order, overrun with fear and suspicion on all sides and threatening to break apart, and no one ever thought to look at the true traitor in their midst. And little Peter Pettigrew, the one the teachers never cared for, the one who never had that much to say, and the one who never had many friends outside the Marauders, managed to end the war by being the one thing no one would have expected him to be.

It’s all so ironic and yet so fitting in Sirius’ mind that there really isn’t anything else left for him to do.

The explosion destroys the entire street. Sirius was far enough from Peter—maybe by design, maybe by accident. Sirius doesn’t care either way—that he only gets thrown back. People are screaming, there are buildings crumbling, but they all sound muted, as if coming from the other end of a very long tunnel. Sirius doesn’t bother getting up; Peter will be long gone by now and Sirius will have no way to track him. Besides, looking at the wreckage Peter left in his wake, Sirius won’t be able to go anywhere for a very long time. He doesn’t think he has the strength to defend himself, nor will he be given the chance.

Sirius laughs. He laughs and laughs and laughs.

The madness wins.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments give me life :) Check me out on [Tumblr](https://pdfcct.tumblr.com) if you want :)


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